


Not All Are to Be Trusted

by lavendre



Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendre/pseuds/lavendre
Summary: Zack, Aerith, and an evening at the Sector 5 playground. Zack tries to ask the right questions but Aerith's an expert at deflecting. And other things.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Kudos: 24





	Not All Are to Be Trusted

The air was starting to smell like grease and exhaust, albeit a little too industrial for a normal town, motor oil and mako and cooking things blurring together. The crowds were getting thicker in the distance. Everyone was hungry, had things to do. The distant roar of the train hung suspended in Zack’s ears, which he carefully filed away as his sign to leave. In an hour. Or two. Or three.  
  
But that was just the usual hullabaloo preceding the amusing scene before him: Aerith’s toothpick arms, somehow holding her suspended from a long line of monkey bars, challenging his. He wasn’t going to laugh.  
  
“You should see some of those roots on the weeds I’ve pulled,” she huffed. “They’re bonkers.”  
  
“Different muscles are used for that,” he says deadpan, just to watch her face turn pink in frustration.  
  
“Zack!”  
  
He grinned at her from the other end of the bars, legs folded at the knee so he didn’t touch the ground. He was definitely too old for this. He was definitely, happily, presently, ignoring that. And other things. Though said things were nagging at the back of his core that wasn’t focused on Aerith’s face: they said, _pay attention to the scene._  
  
“Are you gonna come get me or what,” he teased. “I don’t have all night.”  
  
Aerith stuck her tongue out at him, adjusted her grip, then moved for the next monkey bar. Zack swung forward two. He already had a vision for how this would end: he wanted to catch her between his knees and gently let her down with a kiss. He wanted to make her face turn pink with laughter when he deepened it. He wanted to take her home with him and wrap her up until they were saturated in each other’s warmth.  
  
He wanted to know why, too, she’d spent the evening acting like she wasn’t desperately lonely for some form of contact. Something he had missed. Something he had yet to uncover.  
  
“I haven’t done this,” Aerith panted, reaching forward again, “--in years. Maybe I was cocky, I’ll admit it. Thanks for humoring me.”  
  
The real sun had slipped below the horizon hours ago, and above, the artificial lights were dimming like tired stars. Her hair looked like brass under the big halogen bulbs.  
  
“It’s fine, I believe in you. And I guess we outgrow these eventually but it’s still entertaining. Even if you’re struggling over there, huh.”  
  
A burst of laughter came from her mouth. “True. It’s -- I feel stupid doing this alone. Seems pointless without company.” She readjusted both hands, grunted, and swung forward again. Zack watched her trembling arms and moved forward a friendly three, toes curling in his boots. Their childishness was making him giddy on a cellular level. But the stubborn pout of concentration on her face and the comical lack of definition in her arms spoke to the serious effort. He would not laugh. Just poke. Gently. To get at the heart of the issue. Which had sparked this.  
  
“But not now. Miss competitive.”  
  
“Nooo. It’s more like -- I said something weird once, when I was a kid. Well, I said a lot of weird things then, but. A girl shoved me off a slide after. You know. One of those tall, open ones with no rails.” Aerith’s green eyes met his and fluttered away again.  
  
Zack could envision it perfectly, as well as the unhappy twenty foot plummet into playground dirt. Probably a crunch of bone. Angry yells from a watching parent. But the narrative was all wrong.  
  
“I never had someone shove me, but I did fall out of trees pretty frequently.”  
  
“Oh, is that what happened?”  
  
“Hey.” He’s sure his grin is too big for his face. “I broke my wrist while trying to catch myself and then I made all the people in town sign their names on my cast. I was pretty bummed when I had to get it removed later. But you know how they get sweaty and grimy and smelly after a while and--”  
  
“Oh _Gaia_ , itchy,” Aerith supplied, groaning. “I used to shove a butter knife handle in there to get at it. I’d have to put a bag on it when I showered.”  
  
“I used Ma’s spatula. She never understood how it always wound up in the sink.”  
  
Aerith’s smile was unusually wobbly. He swung forward and caught her gently with his knees. A little awkward was an understatement, yeah, it had been more romantic in his head. Her stale breath warmed his face. Her eyes were bright and shiny, pupils large and dark when she gazed at him.  
  
Yeah, he was totally going to kiss her. Especially before she got stuck in her head again. Or wanted another battle of strength.  
  
“And after the fall?” Zack prompted.  
  
“Well, her mom died. She was ill.”  
  
“Ah. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“So you never went to the park again. Got on a slide. Acted like a real kid. Punished yourself for something out of your control, huh?”  
  
She freed a hand to smack him in the chest and they swayed in space. She scrubbed her face and spoke quietly, like there was an admission of a secret, though he didn’t know her to keep such things yet. “Kind of uncanny, don’t you think?”  
  
“Unfortunate, maybe. We all blows things out of proportion once in a while,” he said softly back, and she winced. “But you’re not mean. Not deliberately anyway. Wait. You did hate on my carpentry skills. But I’m just the target of your affections right?”  
  
“I guess we can’t all be perfect.” Aerith’s expression turned sly. He was forgiven.  
  
Zack leaned in, brushed her ear with his lips. “Yeah, I only wish I could be a ten.”  
  
“Shut up. And hey, I really don’t want a repeat of my traumatic slide incident.”  
  
Zack dropped down first and lifted her by the waist, dress and skin bunching between his clammy palms. He knew intimately how they scaled, emotionally and physically, and so he knew when they were in sync, and that her joking was a nice deflection -- something he liked to do when confronted with agony and no way out.  
  
“I got you. You can let go now.”  
  
“I know.” After a moment of hanging suspended in space, all alone in that washed out artificial glow, Aerith put her arms around his neck.  
  
He did kiss her, thank you very much. A lot. Until she was annoyed with him and laughing too much to actually be angry or sad or anything else, and Zack wrote it off as an uncanny, but not an unusual evening spent with Aerith, one among many where they bounced energy between them like sounding boards, checking each other for signs of wrongness or displeasure, and not finding any, never parted unhappily.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The thing about Aerith that actually makes Zack pause, makes him stutter and stop, is that she’s a series of contradictions.  
  
She’s metal under that easy smile, the kind made in a fire. It makes him nervous if he’s honest, like she’s seen something he hasn’t and he’s _been_ places, chopped up men for lesser things, but Aerith holds his hand and kisses his mouth sometimes like it might be their last. Like she’s seriously worried the whole world’s going to invert.  
  
“It’s not,” he laughs, cups her whole head between his hands, fixes her bangs after he ruins them, and wonders if she wants to drown him in kisses as much as he does her. It’s just a fantasy. Maybe his tiny wish. “The sky is totally innocent, and so blue and cheery -- it’s _alright_ , Aerith.”  
  
She’s holding something back. He’ll learn too late to do anything about it.  
  
They sit on the bench at the train station, and in the distance the low rumble calls out from the tunnel and Zack wishes for more time. But there’s a suit in the shadow, waiting, so he gently disengages and gives her a chaste kiss goodbye -- she’ll be fine without him. She has been for most of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> i took some liberties with the playground design in Crisis Core / OG, because i wanted monkey bars footsie wars. title comes from a song by The Halfways.


End file.
